


The Hunter and the Hunted

by SinnamonSpider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Eating, Grudging Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonSpider/pseuds/SinnamonSpider
Summary: In the wastes of Purgatory, it's hunt or be hunted. Sometimes, it's both.





	The Hunter and the Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first purely non-Wincest piece I've written. I may have to dabble some more...
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Feedback is love.

They were trekking through a particularly nasty patch of the unending forest when Benny heard the sound.

Unnaturally fast, he swept Dean's feet from under him, bringing the other man crashing down to the damp carpet of dead leaves. Before Dean could make a move to recover, Benny flattened himself on top of Dean's prone form, utilizing his bulk and the dead weight of a technically dead body.

“Benny, what the fuck?” Dean hissed into the mulch, his body shifting under Benny's. The aliveness of him was distracting, so Benny leaned in close, speaking right into a blood-flushed ear. 

“Shhh.”

Dean went still, like an animal playing dead, head cocked like a dog. The creature stalking them made the slightest noise and Benny knew Dean had heard it just as he had, by the rabbit-jump of the pulse thundering loud in the unnatural silence of the wood.

Benny shook his head even as he pressed himself down further, trying to hide Dean beneath himself. It was rather like trying to shield a fat man with a skinny one - there wasn't much hope for his attempt to smother Dean's blood-bright scent of human beneath his own stale blood smell and the rot of dead leaves. Still, he needed the meatbag under him alive and preferably unharmed by whatever was hunting them in the graying light. 

Dean twitched, just once, a nervous betrayal of muscles tensed for action that may never come. To the human's credit, he was doing fairly well - aside from the thunderous pulse of his beating heart, he had reined in his breathing to be barely perceptible, and he was still under Benny's not-slight weight. 

The creature stalking them was closer now, picking a near-silent path toward them. It was good - but Benny was better. The same might yet be said of his human companion. 

The unnerving quiet fell once more, but he wasn't fooled - he could sense it, just out of eyeshot, trying to pinpoint Dean's scent. With the barest flex of his biceps as warning, Benny tucked his face into Dean's neck, trying to block out where the blood and scent were strongest. He felt Dean stiffen further, impossibly.

God, the smell of him - rich blood thrumming under paper-thin skin, most of all, but other scents too. Metallic tinge of hard water from his last quick splash in the creek, a futile attempt to wash off some of the mess of Purgatory. Old sweat, pungent but not unpleasant, lingering strongest at the place where his leather coat brushed against his neck. And something else, something uniquely human but even more uniquely Dean. 

Their ruse, unlikely as it had been, had worked - lifting his face from Dean's throat gave him an eyeline on the monster heading away from where they lay in the brush. Not safe yet, though, not just yet - he relaxed the slightest bit against Dean's form and knew the hunter got the message as he unfroze from his rigid state. 

Still plastered over the other man, it was impossible to not feel the rush of human reaction racing through Dean as their situation grew less dangerous. A slight tremble in the limbs, though the scent of fear wasn't there; the rapid beat of the pulse, picking up instead of slowing down. Benny tilted his head, confused, but they remained still until their hunter was truly gone. 

“Sorry, hoss,” Benny gritted out, pushing up off Dean's prone body. “No time to let you in on the plan.” 

Dean stayed where he was, the shiver rolling through him more pronounced now that Benny could see him fully. Frowning, he reached out to haul the hunter up onto his knees. 

“Get the hell off,” Dean snarled, trying to curl into himself, sounding nearly wounded, and Benny wondered if he'd gone down too hard and too fast, if he'd hurt the other man. It hadn't seemed likely - Dean was big and broad and well-built. Maybe he'd landed strangely?

Peering around Dean's frame, he raked his eyes down the human's body - and, lighting on the significant bulge in his blue jeans, understood immediately, if not too late. 

Close as they still were, Benny could feel the heat of Dean's fiery blush. The hunter was still, shoulders still trying to curl inwards, blocked by the bulk of Benny's own body. 

Ready to have his hand chopped clean off by the fearsome axe Dean had cobbled together early in their journey, Benny let his fingers sweep lightly over the push of eagerness in the fabric. 

Dean shuddered, a big violent motion, and hissed out a sharp breath. Benny stayed where he was, hand lightly holding on and God, he could feel the pulse of blood-stiff flesh under his fingers. 

He turned his head very slowly, to observe Dean's face. It was still pink with unwilling want, his brows drawn down over narrowed eyes, but there was no denying the hugeness of his pupils, or the way his tongue slipped out to lick dry lips. 

Benny walked his fingers carefully up to the buckle of the belt waiting for him, pausing when he reached it. A beat, and then - “Fucking do it already,” Dean growled out, shoving his hips forward, turning his face away. 

Permission granted, Benny made quick work of belt and button, pulling the pants open. One ear trained on the silence of the forest, the other on the pickup of Dean's breathing, he slid cold fingers inside to meet skin that seemed nearly boiling in comparison. 

Dean made a noise, half smothered, as Benny's hand encircled hot, hard flesh, fingers warming quickly. Benny wrestled the hunter’s flushed dick from his pants, watching in bemused delight as it dripped clear fluid down onto the carpet of molding leaves. 

“Jesus,” Dean gritted out, still resolutely turned away despite the needy jerk of his hips, bringing Benny's hand slick over his skin. 

Benny fought to keep at least half his attention on their surroundings, knowing they could be attacked at any minute, helpless and distracted as they were. Still, the silken slide of warm, warm human body, like satin over steel, was intoxicating. He let the roughness of his calloused fingers slip, hard, over the weeping slit and Dean bucked against him, half-falling into the cradle of his body. 

Not long now - he could hear it in the hummingbird-fast thrum of the human's pulse, could see it in the darkening of already blood-dark skin, could feel it in the tremble of human limbs, strong and yet so delicate, beautiful in their lines. 

Dean grabbed him suddenly, fingers digging hard into the meat of his side just at his waist, and he watched the hunter’s hips jerk hard, pistol-kicking as thick streams of fluid spilled over Benny's fist. Dean allowed himself just one gasp, low and sounding like it was torn from deep within him, before the wild beat of his heart started winding down and he yanked backwards out of Benny's grip.

Hand slick with warmth, Benny gave it less than a second's thought before bringing the hand to his mouth.

He ignored the sound Dean tried to lock down even as it slipped out, focused as he was on the thick, viscous, protein-rich fluid on his tongue - wrong, and yet not as wrong as it might be, a passing similarity to the human essence he truly craved. Salt instead of iron, but he cleaned his hand with purpose, giving Dean time to tuck himself away and remove himself from the half-circle of his frame. 

“We need to move,” Dean said sharply. Nothing more - certainly no offer to return the favour, but there was something nearly coquettish in the slant of his green eyes, something almost a promise, if not an invitation, in the tilt of his plush lips. 

Benny stood, dusting leaves from his trousers as he scanned the woods around them. He set off in his chosen direction, Dean close behind.


End file.
